


In Which Triage Successfully Fails Two Teenaged Boys

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cutting, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, but definitely moving that way, but it's definitely heading that way by the end of it, they're not dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: What could have happened if Evan and Connor meet during an (absurdly long!) ER wait before the show begins?





	In Which Triage Successfully Fails Two Teenaged Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I promised that I had some things in the work, and here I am, delivering. This took a little longer to get through than I'd planned, but life did the thing where it doesn't like the idea of me being a writer. It's unbetaed, but I thing I caught most everything. As usual, if you notice something, point it out!

Evan grunts softly as he pulls his jacket closer around himself, accidentally jostling the arm cradled against his torso. He looks around the emergency room again, trying to figure out who in the waiting room is worse off than he is, and therefore how much longer his wait will be.

It’s been three hours already, almost five since he fell. But he laid on the ground for half an hour, waiting to see if he’d died or not and if someone would come find him. When nobody did, though, he hiked back out of the forest on his own, identifying as many trees as he could to stop the tears from falling. Then, he drove himself – one-handed – to the county hospital. Where he’d been waiting for three hours.

He blinks away more tears and looks around again, actively refusing to think about how he fell, or how alone he was, or how alone he still _is_ , or that he couldn’t even do this one thing right.

No one appears to be actively dying, but Evan reminds himself that not all injuries can be seen from the outside, and he really doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be here, trying not to touch, move or think about the arm he landed on.

His left arm isn’t hanging right, and he knows that. Elbows aren’t supposed to be bent all the time, and he shouldn’t feel like screaming every time he so much as twitches a finger. But that’s what he gets, he supposes, for falling out of a tree at work.

What does catch his eye, though, is another patient. He doesn’t look like he’s dying, but he looks like he wants to. Evan thinks he recognizes the boy from school, maybe, but he’s not sure. He’s sitting on the opposite side of the room, also by himself, with his elbows propped on his knees as he stares at the gauze wrapped around his right wrist. The bright white bandage sticks out against his gray hoodie and black skinny jeans. And every so often, he presses a finger against it, like he knows right where the wound is, winces and then appears to almost _relax_ as the endorphins hit his bloodstream.

Not that Evan’s staring. Just that the stranger has been here almost as long as he has and he has to do _something_ to distract himself from the endorphin rush he’s still waiting on. And it doesn’t help that Evan’s mom didn’t answer the phone any of the six times he’s called her, busy on a rotation in the NICU at the hospital across town.

So, Evan thinks, it’s him and this other boy – no, he’s pretty sure they went to school together, so he’s not really a stranger, but Evan has no idea what his name is – against everyone else. They’re both alone, not much of a team really, but it makes him feel a little better when everyone else has someone who brought them or met them there or noticed that they were hurt.

Now, if he could only find a reason to go sit by him, so they’d at least _look_ like they had friends. Evan scans the room, noticing a coffee machine in a corner near the other boy’s chair. He doesn’t drink coffee, doesn’t need any more help being awkward and jittery all the time, but gets up and pours a Styrofoam cup anyway before he sits down three seats away from the almost-stranger.

As soon as Evan sits down, the boy turns his head slightly, glaring at Evan through the hair falling in his face. Everything about him gives of vibes of _move_ and _leave me alone_ , but Evan doesn’t. Instead, he takes a deep breath and moves a seat closer, wiggling the fingers of his good hand a little before he bumps his bad elbow on the arm of his seat and yelps.

“Shit, are you OK? I didn’t think humans could make noises that high.” But he doesn’t sound very worried, more like he knows he’s supposed to ask the question.

“Fine. Just uh … bumped my arm.” _Good. Through the first exchange without putting my foot in it_. “What … um, what happened to you?”

“Tried to kill myself.” _Foot, meet mouth._ Evan’s new cohort doesn’t miss a beat, laughing dryly when he sees the look on Evan’s face. “Not today, a while ago. It, ah, didn’t go as planned.” He notices Evan trying not to stare at his wrist and pokes the gauze again. “These – _ah_ – these are just cuts, but one went a little deep so I’m gonna get it checked out. Don’t want to die before I’m ready; shit’s gotta be on my own terms, y’know?”

“Mmm.” Evan tries to steel his features and not give away how much he seems to have in common with this stranger.

“What about you?”

“Evan. Um, sorry, usually people ask my name so that’s the response I was ready to give. Uh, I’m Evan. And to-to answer the question you actually asked, I fell out of a tree. At-at Ellison State Park. Where I’m a ranger. Was a ranger, I guess. I don’t know if they let you keep your job when you fall out of trees.”

“Connor. I would’ve asked, but you’re still wearing your nametag. And I figured you were a ranger; I used to go to day camp at Ellison. That polo’s an _awful_ shade of green.” And the thing is, the stranger – Connor – isn’t wrong. Pea green isn’t a good look on anyone. But no one’s ever said it out loud before, or at least not to Evan, so he doesn’t quite know how to react.

“Ha ha, yeah. They make me wear it, though. It’s my uniform. All of us rangers have to wear them. I guess that’s what makes them a uniform though, so you probably figured that out.” Evan blushes furiously and stares at his coffee.

“Yeah, I guessed as much. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d willingly wear such a heinous color.” Connor chuckles and waves his hand at Evan’s cup. “You know you can’t read tea leaves in coffee, right?”

“I-I know. Um … I, uh, don’t drink coffee?” He’s not sure why it comes out as a question.

“Then why’d you get some?”

“So I could get up and walk around. I-I don’t like sitting and I’ve been here for three-three hours.”

“You couldn’t just get up and walk?” Connor side-eyes Evan again.

“No. I mean, what-what kind of weirdo just walks around a waiting room and sits right back down without doing anything?” Evan sits the cup between his feet and wrings his hands as Connor smirks at him. Without saying anything, Connor gets up and walks two laps around the room before sitting back down and grinning.

“This kind of weirdo. Three hours, really? For that,” he nods at Evan’s arm, “which really looks like it needs taken care of. Hands aren’t supposed to be angled like that.”

“I know, and it hurts like a bit—it hurts a lot! How long, uh, how long have you been waiting?”

“Two hours. It’s probably closed up by now, and it’ll heal fine, but this is a largely symbolic gesture.”

“Sym-symbolic?” Evan furrows his brow.

“Yeah, as long as it looks like I’m trying to get help and solve my shit, my parents won’t ask a lot of questions. Really, can’t a guy have _any_ secrets, just because he tried to off himself a few years ago? Like what’s that have to do with my sexual preferences, _Cynthia_?” He sneers on his mother’s name and it actually makes Evan shudder.

“Oh.” Evan doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything else for a minute. Then, “My mom, uh, she’s not home much. So-so I have a lot of secrets I guess? Even though I don’t want to keep things from her. It … um, I’m sorry your parents are nosy, though.”

“Not your fault, Ev.” _Ev_. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever called him that before. His mom always either calls him “Evan” or “sweetheart.” But he doesn’t hate it, even though he’s only known Connor for like half an hour.

“Uh, this is probably a really weird question and an even weirder time to bring it up, but uh, what high school do you go to? Did you go to? I just … I think I’ve seen you around?”

“I go to Columbus. Uh, I’ll graduate next year.”

“That’s what I thought. Not that I’ve been thinking about you! Just-just that I saw you from over there and-and you looked familiar. Like-like maybe we went to school together. And we do, it turns out. So, uh, maybe I’ll see you around this year?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Connor chuckles again and Evan can’t figure out if it’s because he wants to hang out at school or not. But he’s saved from having to think too hard, because just then a nurse comes out and calls him back to be examined.

“Um … it’s probably really forward of me to ask this and you probably don’t even care what happens to me or anything but it’s just that no one is here with me and I’m-I’m kinda really freaked out and you said your wrist is probably OK by now anyway and so would you maybecomebackwithmesoI’mnotallbymyselfwhenIhavetowaitforthedoctor?”

“Really? Senior in high school and you’re scared to see a doctor by yourself?” This time when Connor laughs, it’s not a chuckle. It’s harsh and condescending.

“it’s fine, you don’t—you don’t have to. I just figured we’ve been chatting all this time and you-you seem nice and I don’t really want to be alone right now like that’s maybe not the best idea because of … things that have happened and you’re here and—“

“Ev. Did I say no?” When Evan shakes his head, Connor stands up. “Then let’s go.”

Together, they follow the nurse back to an exam room, where she takes one look at Evan’s arm and sends him off for X-rays.

“It’s probably broken,” she says. “But we’ll make sure the doctor knows what he’s looking at.” So Connor is left sitting on another hard plastic chair, alone again. But this time he’s worrying about someone he wouldn’t have given the time of day to three hours ago.

While he’s waiting for Evan to come back out, a different nurse stops in front of him and points at his wrist.

“You were in the waiting room earlier. Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, they’re fine. I just came in so my parents would get off my back.”

“Have you  … been examined?”

“No. But I’m waiting with someone else now. And they’ll heal. They’ve always healed before.” Connor fixes the nurse with his best ‘fuck you’ glare, before staring back down at his phone and ignoring the footsteps as they walk away. He figures he might have to deal with it later, make a show of getting some peroxide poured over drying wounds, but he didn’t want Evan to come back looking for him and only find empty chairs.

As if on cue, the door to the X-ray lab opens and Evan walks out cradling his arm as tears shine in his eyes.

“They-they made me move it.” He doesn’t look anywhere near Connor’s age, the taller boy thinks, especially not when his lip is trembling like it is now.

“Yeah? Well just so you know, if it’s broken, they’ll probably make you move it again so they can put the cast on.” He doesn’t know why, but Connor’s heart hurts a little when he sees the look on Evan’s face. “But I’ll be there and maybe that’ll help?”

Evan shrugs half-heartedly and changes the subject.

“Wh-when are they looking at-at your arm?”

“Eh. Like I said, it’ll be fine.” He makes a show of wiggling his wrist, then tries to hide his wince.

“Maybe-maybe after they do my arm, the-the same doctor can do yours? And I’ll-I’ll be there too?”

Evan looks so damn _hopeful_ that Connor doesn’t have anything else to say, except: “Yeah, maybe so, Hansen.” Then he gently nudges Evan’s good shoulder and points to where the nurse is waiting to lead them into an exam room.

They follow the nurse down the hall and Connor impulsively holds out his hand to help Evan get situated on the exam table. Neither of them say anything, but Evan doesn’t let go, so Connor uses his foot to drag a chair over and sit down while they wait for the doctor.

It’s five minutes into another awkward silence – their fourth of the evening, by Connor’s count – when Evan turns to him and stares for a moment before speaking softly.

“You-you didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” But before Connor can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door and a doctor comes in.

“Evan? I’m Dr. Beason and I’ll be getting you patched up today. I’ve looked at your X-ray and there’s a pretty clear fracture in your radius. You say you fell out of a tree?” The doctor passes Connor an iPad with Evan’s X-ray on it, which he holds out for Evan to see.

“Y-yes? In-in Ellison State Park? I’m-I’m a ranger there all-all summer. Or at least, I guess I was?” Evan’s talking so fast that Connor can barely pick out his words, but clearly Dr. Beason does better with his nervous rambles.

“Well I don’t know how your boss will feel, but I certainly wouldn’t recommend any strenuous activity. But let’s start with the part we do know and get this arm set so we can get a cast on it.” Evan squeezes Connor’s hand a little tighter, but he just squeezes back and plasters on what he thinks is a comforting smile. It must work, because Evan looks back at the doctor and blinks.

“O-OK. Um … how? No, that’s not what I meant, that’s a stupid question. Uh, I just … I don’t know? I’ve never … broken anything before? So I-I don’t know how this … how it works?”

“That’s fine, Evan. Not a stupid question at all. Because the bone broke all the way through, I’ll have to slide the pieces back into place before we put the cast on. So we’ll give you a local anesthetic to help with the pain, but you might still feel some pressure or a crunching feel. Then we’ll put the cast on and get you on your way.” Dr. Beason smiles and leaves the room, with a promise to return soon.

As soon as they have the room to themselves again, Connor turns to Evan and runs a thumb over his hand.

“Hey, this won’t be so bad. They’re gonna numb it up so it doesn’t hurt so much, yeah? Then you’ll have a killer cast and a helluva story for your friends.”

“Oh. I-I um … I don’t really have any? Friends, I mean. I’m usually pretty quiet so people don’t really no-notice me. It-it’s easier for people to not-not hate me if they don’t know I exist?”

“Too late. I know you exist, so you’ve got at least one friend now. I can’t help you with too many more, but we’ve at least got one now, right?”

“I-I guess? Uh … um …”

“C’mon, Hansen, out with it.”

“WhatifIthrowupwhileshe’ssettingmyarm? Like-like from the pain?” Connor almost laughs, but when he sees how legitimately _afraid_ Evan looks, he restrains himself.

“Hmm … hey, lemme up for a second?” Reluctantly, Evan lets go of Connor’s hand, watching closely as he crosses the room and picks up the trash can, sitting it in his lap as he sets back down and grabs Evan’s hand again. “There. If- _if­_ \- you need to throw up, there’s a trash can right here.” And his timing is perfect too, because Dr. Beason is coming back in with a nurse and a tray of equipment.

“Alright, Evan. We’ll just inject the anesthetic, wait for it to take effect, set the fracture and put a cast on for you.” Connor feels Evan tense up when he sees the syringe on the tray.

“Hey, hey Evan? Look here, look at me. It’ll be over before you know it, yeah?” He watches out of the corner of his eye as the nurse swabs down Evan’s arm and picks up the syringe. “Ready? Breathe in … and breathe out.” The nurse pushes the needle into Evan’s arm and he squeezes Connor's hand, but doesn’t react otherwise. “See? Hard part’s done. You’re not gonna feel the rest of it.”

“Pr-promise?”

“It’s not gonna hurt. That’s what the anesthetic was for. Hey, you make it through this and I’ll let them look at my arm, OK?”   
  
“Do I … do I have a choice?”

“Not really.” Connor laughs and nods when the doctor grabs Evan’s forearm and catches his eye. “Here we go, ready? Squeeze my hand if you need to.”

Evan screws his eyes shut and nods subtly, already clutching Connor’s fingers tighter before the doctor even starts counting.

“One … two … three …” Hands twist and there’s a sickening _crunch_ sound as the bones slot back together. Evan gasps and squeezes Connor’s hand with all he’s worth. “There. All set.”

“Evan? Hey, he’s done. Open your eyes, buddy.” Hesitantly, Evan opens his eyes, focusing on Connor’s face.

“I-I did it?”

“You did it. You’re in one piece again. They’ve gotta do the cast still, but that’s a walk in the park. What color do you want?”

“Um … do-do they have green?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask the doctor.” But when Evan’s eyes double in size and his breathing picks up, Connor squeezes his hand lightly and leans around to look at Dr. Beason.

“Does the plaster come in green?”

“Neon or dark?” They both look at Evan.

“Ne-neon? Um, if that’s OK?”

“Neon green it is. I’ll be right back.” The doctor steps out again, leaving Evan’s arm braced loosely in an elastic bandage.

“So? Was it as bad as you thought?” Connor cracks a smile and looks up at Evan again.

“No, you-you were right. I didn’t fe-feel it. But the noise was sc-scary.”

“Yeah, but now they’ll put the cast on it and you’ll have a sick fashion statement. And they’ll look at my arm and I can give you a ride home, if you want one.”

“Maybe. Um … I need to call my mom again. She works in a-a hospital. Across town?  Um … General? She didn’t answer when I called her, uh, earlier. I’m gonna call again and-and I might try to go there and-and see her. I don’t’ know.”

“Hey, no problem. I can drive you there, or we can part ways. I’m just trying to be a good ER buddy, here Ev.” There he goes again with the nickname. _Ev_. But before Evan can think too hard about what it means, Dr. Beason comes back in with rolls of gauze and plaster.

“Alright, ready?” Evan looks over and nods shyly, reaching for Connor’s hand again. The doctor wraps his arm in gauze, then the bright green plaster, but Evan just watches Connor, who runs his thumb soothingly across Evan’s hand and tries not to think about why he’s so upset that Evan is scared. _Clearly it’s because I have to deal with his stupid feelings._

Only Connor is beginning to think that may not be why at all. When Dr. Beason finishes putting Evan’s cast on, he smiles down at Connor and wiggles his fingers, and Connor’s first instinct is to respond with the biggest, most genuine smile he can muster.

“Look, all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Still hurts, but less than it did.”

“And that’s completely normal.” Dr. Beason interrupts whatever kind of moment Evan and Connor may have been having and passes Connor a prescription, pointedly not looking at his wrists. “Here’s a script for some pain killers. They should help with the inflammation too.”

“OK. Um … can you look at-at Connor too? At his … at his wrists? He … they’ve been cut.”

“Oh, um, certainly. Would you two like to switch seats?”

“I’m good here.” Connor glares at the doctor, which maybe isn’t fair because Dr. Beason hasn’t been anything but nice and helpful, but he’d _really_ rather this not be happening. The only reason he’s letting it slide is because he promised Evan he would.

 _Oh_.

But then he’s unwrapping the gauze and wincing when Dr. Beason presses lightly on one of the gashes across his arm.

“Mr. …” the doctor trails off, waiting for Connor to fill in his last name. “Murphy. Do you care to tell me how you got these cuts?”

“Not particularly.” He glares again. “Just tell me if they’re deep enough for stitches or whatever.”

“No, I don’t think they’ll need any additional treatment. You know how to keep them cleaned out?” Dr. Beason looks up knowingly.

“Neosporin, Band-Aids, gauze. Yeah, I know the drill.”

“Alright. Well if you take care of them, these should heal without a problem. I’ll step out for a minute to get Evan’s discharge papers and you two can be on your way.” As soon as the door closes, Connor drops Evan’s hand and focuses carefully on rewrapping the gauze. But his hands are shaking lightly and he can’t get it to twist right.

“Fuck.” He hisses under his breath for at least the third time in as many minutes, before Evan takes a deep breath and stammers out an offer.

“Um … I could, uh, if-if you want me to … Icouldhelpyouwrapthat?” When Connor looks up, Evan is staring at his own arm. “Or-or I could try to, at-at least? Um, I don’t know how well it would wo-work, with my cast, but I-I might be able to?”

“Sure, Hansen, give it a shot. It’s not like I’m getting anywhere.” They turn to face each other and Connor rests his arm on Evan’s knee. Evan takes the gauze in his good hand and fumbles his way through wrapping it around Connor’s wrist. He’s more gentle than Connor remembers anyone being, ever, but when Evan gets to the end of the bandage, he nudges Connor’s elbow with his foot.

“I … um, I can’t … I can’t tie it off. With-with one hand. Um … can you—can you get that part?”

“Yeah, I can get that. Um … thanks, Evan.”

“Ye-yeah. Of course. Um …thanks for sticking around? To-to make sure I didn’t freak out too bad? Which I’m sure I will later, but at least it won’t be with people around. So, so that won’t be as bad as like having a panic attack in the waiting room while everyone stared at me. So … um … thanks.”

“No problem, Ev.” Connor smiles and pulls his arm back, fiddling with the end of the gauze as Dr. Beason comes back in.

“OK, Evan here’s your discharge packet, if you could just read over it and sign and initial at the end. And …”

“Connor.”

“Connor, here’s some more gauze so you can change the bandage on that every eight to 12 hours, or more often if it starts bleeding again. And there’s a couple pamphlets on … wound care in there too.” Connor takes the bag and peers inside at three rolls of gauze and a stack of brochures. He flips through them and finds the standard fodder: _Understanding Self-Harm_ , _Non-Suicidal Self Injury_ , _This Doesn’t Have to be the End_ , and a list of support groups. He knows he won’t use any of them, that this was just a minor setback in an otherwise relatively successful recovery, but he was raised with manners nonetheless.

“Thanks. I’ll … look into it.”

“I hope you do.” They both look over to Evan, who’s clicking the pen top rapidly and staring down at his careful signature.

“Ev? You ready, buddy?”

“Hmm? Oh, ye-yeah. I’m … uh … we can go, yeah.” He scrambles down from the exam table and hands the clipboard back to Dr. Beason.

“I left a referral for you with our orthopedic unit upstairs. They should call the contact number on your intake form in the next 72 hours to schedule a follow-up.”

“O-O-OK.” When Connor sees the look on Evan’s face, he sidesteps past the doctor to stand next to Evan, close enough to brush their elbows together. He tries not to act surprised when Evan grabs his hand, but still squeezes Evan’s fingers gently.

“Ready to get out of here, Ev?” Evan nods gratefully and they follow Dr. Beason back out to the waiting room, where they’re left alone again. Connor rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and looks over at Evan. “So, uh, did you drive yourself here? Never mind, that was a stupid question. Um, do you want—are you good to drive home? And be on your own until … until your mom gets home?”

“Uh … yeah. I’m gonna … probably, uh, go to the hospital she works at and-and see what she wants me to do. But, um … thanks. Again. Seriously. I-I don’t think I could’ve done this by myself.”

“Um, yeah, of course. Go-go see your mom. I’ll see you around? At school, maybe?” They walk out to the parking lot together, but stop before they have to part ways.

“Yeah, maybe so. I’ll be the kid sitting alone in the corner.” Evan laughs dryly.

“Yeah? Me too.” With that, Connor turns to leave, but Evan stops him.

“Hey, hey Connor? Will you, uh, will you sign my cast?” Evan’s fishing in his pocket for what turns out to be a blue Sharpie. “It’s, uh, fine if-if you don’t want to.”

“Get over here, Hansen.” When Evan approaches him, Connor takes the marker and scrawls his name across Evan’s forearm. Evan tries to take his arm back when Connor finishes writing, but he pulls it toward him again and writes something smaller at the very edge of the plaster, where it could be easily hidden with a sleeve or marked over if Evan wanted to. He caps the pen and shoves it into the pocket on Evan’s shirt. “I’ll see you later.”

Connor’s gone before Evan can look down and see what he wrote. Which is good, because Evan doesn’t think he could hide the blush when the read the sloppy writing.

 _CONNOR_ , taking up most of the length of the cast. Then up by his elbow, _(518) 555-0123_ _Txt me._

And Evan thinks he just might.

**Author's Note:**

> As of now, this is a standalone, but I'm certainly not ruling out the idea of a sequel in the future. 
> 
> Meantime, every comment and kudos is one text between Connor and Evan, so it's up to you guys how much they're communicating right now.
> 
> Hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing! xoxo


End file.
